


The Twinge

by MathsandDinos



Category: The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Crying, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Breakdown, News of Death, Poor Nico, Violence, loving relationship, not taking things well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 07:30:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20756636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MathsandDinos/pseuds/MathsandDinos
Summary: Nico finds out about the death of Jason Grace and he doesn't take it well.





	The Twinge

**Author's Note:**

> This was written before The Tyrant's Tomb so please just dismiss any post-Burning Maze canonical errors

The twinges didn’t come as often. Sure, they still visited often enough, arriving as a slightly uncomfortable jolt in the chest or a deep swollen pain like swallowing too large a piece of bread with no water. Most of the time they were just irritating and nowadays, the son of Hades willingly chose not to investigate them.

Most mortals act like they understand the commonality of death. They discuss the Mortality Rates of a country during high school presentations, skim pass the obituaries over a cup of tea, ride their bikes through a cemetery as a short cut to not be late for an important meeting, flush their child’s carnival-won goldfish down the toilet. Death is simply everywhere. People know this, yes, but to _truly_ understand this, not even an average demigod would understand.

Nico worked to block out these Twinges of Death the best he could. It got excruciatingly tiring constantly dealing with these relentless sparks of pain and got to a point to where he could be having a heart attack and not even realize. Besides just this twinge when someone entered the Underworld, his ability to see Death around someone became just as exhausting. Not necessarily _physically_ exhausting but _mentally_ exhausting. Imagine going into the local McDonalds and seeing a family happily eating and chatting away, but the youngest girl reeks of the Coming of Death. The family and the girl are obviously oblivious to her condition and short life. You suddenly make the decision to change your order To Go. 

And so, he worked. He worked to dim these abilities, quiet them, transform them like the Mist to become invisible. Still there and still present if he squinted his eyes and concentrated enough, but no longer a part of every moment of his life. Now and then Nico’s chest would convulse with pain like a chronic heart condition or he would see a slight breeze of Death to the most unfortunate ones, but – like his emotions – it got to a point where he could handle it better.

The last time Nico saw Death so pointedly was when he first met the mortal-fied Apollo many months ago. The last time he felt such powerful twinge was during last night’s campfire.

\--------------------------------------------------

For someone like Nico, Camp Half-Blood’s nightly ritualistic campfire was worse than battling the Titans, almost dying in a jar, or being in Tartarus – well, maybe not _that_ bad but some of the cringe-worthy songs that were sung made it pretty damn close. Nico would have much rather started up an Anti-Campfire where it was him and a couple of dead rats unsuccessfully playing chess (unsuccessful at least for Nico. The rats themselves were renowned Grandmasters).

Luckily for Nico and the rats, he never went along with this idea and found himself finally beginning to enjoy the campfire thanks to the help of his boyfriend, Will Solace.

If anyone had said to Nico “Wow, Will really lights up your life!” he would have smacked them as Will was the son of the literal god of the sun, Apollo (or former god of the sun? No one was quite sure how to address that now). But the reality – even if it pained him to say it – was that Will truly _did_ light up Nico’s life.

Ever since the two of them began dating, Nico’s life had improved exponentially. Sure, he had to deal with his previous internalized homophobia (which coming from someone born in the 1930’s, that took a lot of work) but he was ever so slowly getting better with it. They went from legs pressed against each other to holding hands under the table to holding hands on the table. The first time they kissed in the public’s eye, Nico had the swift fear of disgust from the other campers. But no one came at them with pitchforks or called them foul names, no one even batted an eye. So the two happily continued to kiss for all to see. With each progression, Nico could tell how proud Will was of him. Will also never pushed him to do anything he didn’t feel comfortable with and tenderly allowed Nico to take his time. This just made Nico love the radiant demigod that much more.

This night, now like every other night, Nico sat with the Apollo kids, nestled hand in hand with Will as if there was nowhere else he would rather be. 

The warmth of the flourishing fire and his boyfriend’s body pressed against him right after their large meal and a long day of the camp’s go-to activity of Capture the Flag (with fortunately no casualties), made the son of Hades begin to doze off. His eyes turned the detailed cables of color from the fire into one fast-moving blur. He let the drone of the variety of pitches and harmonies of the singing wash over his brain. Slowly his half-conscious body flopped into Will’s.

Still singing, Will peered down at his worn-out boyfriend. He smiled, untangled his fingers from Nico’s, and affectionally wrapped his arm around Nico’s body, pulling the two closer together. As the song ended, Will planted a gentle kiss on Nico’s forehead and Nico smiled.

Rarely Nico recounts joy. That was something left for literally anyone else. Within the past years, Nico had become the stereotypical definition of an Emo Kid. He’s constantly dressed in black, sulks and complains about the hardships of life, always is the person to bring up death (although he gets a pass for this since that just goes with the family business), and unapologetically listens to _My Chemical Romance_. He knows that if he brings up how happy he is or how great their plans are working something bad will happen because something bad always happens. But for this scarce occasion, he allowed himself the luxury to revel in this joy.

Life was finally good. Of course there were all the typical small issues brought about with living and the typical large issues brought about with living as a demigod, but compared to how his life had been going, he honestly couldn’t be happier. He loved his boyfriend, he loved his friends, he loved his camp and the genuine family that had grown from it. And best of all, they loved him back. He understood this now, he could except it now. Even with all his quirks and strange abilities and _Hot Topic_ clothes, they loved him. He was the strange, gay, zombie-raising son of Hades and that was the greatest thing to be.

He nuzzled deeper in the arms of Will, inhaling the distinct smells of the fire, the camp, and the boy he loved so dearly.

Life couldn’t be better.

Until – like always – it plummeted down, past the Underworld, past Tartarus.

Nico suddenly and violently convulsed, a splitting pain erupting from his chest causing his entire body to throb and his mind to falter. He retracted from Will like him and the fire suddenly switched places and Nico’s body aggressively wrenched forward as he audibly gasped and clenched his chest. In that moment he thought _well, this is it_ and was finally having the heart-attack his mind was always alluding to. Alas that was not the case although Nico would have much preferred it be.

Luckily for Nico’s self-pride, Will was the only one who noticed Nico’s pseudo heart-attack or heard him thanks to one of the Aphrodite kids who was (unsuccessfully) attempting to belt as well as the Apollo Cabin.

“Nico!” Will clumsily dove in front of his boyfriend the best he could with what little floor room they had. He softly gripped Nico’s shoulder with one hand and his knee with the other, trying to promptly determine what was happening. Even if they weren’t in a relationship together, Will would be the first person Nico would want in a medical situation being as he was the most adept in that line of work at the camp.

Hunched forward, the initial burst of pain subsided – although his chest still ached – and Nico was able to catch his breath. He felt Will’s hand detach from his knee and gently caress his cheek, slowing lifting his head. Nico blearily opened his eyes to see Will’s freckled face full of concern. 

“You okay?” Will’s voice was quiet and delicate.

“Y-yeah,” Nico replied, unsure if he actually was.

“Was that a…?”

“Yes,” Nico was sure about that.

_A Twinge of Death_.

Will glanced down, “It’s been…”

A long time. At least to the point of that severity. 

Fear ran up Nico’s spine like a bee on the loose as his mind jumped to the worst possible conclusion. _Somebody close_. His first instinct – although thankfully wrong and illogical – was that something bad happened to Will. His hand shot up to the hand Will kept pressed to Nico’s cheek. He was here, touching him. His flesh and warmth. He was whole and alive. 

Then allowing his eyes to focus, Nico couldn’t see any trace of Death surrounding Apollo’s son.

Will gave Nico a small smile of recognition. _I’m fine, it’s you I’m worried about_.

“Must’ve just taken me by surprise,” said Nico. “It’s been so long, my body probably forgot about blocking it. I was falling asleep after all.”

Will nodded his head, obviously just as unconvinced about this reasoning as Nico was. “Yeah, that’s probably it.”

Desperately Nico wanted to check. So easily he could peer in and see who it was that entered the Underworld just to make sure it wasn’t someone like Percy or Hazel or Jason or Reyna. He’d grown so close to so many people there were dozens of possibilities.

Or perhaps he really was telling the truth. Perhaps with his vulnerable state someone he knew nothing about a few miles outside camp bit the dust and the pain felt so bad because it _had_ been so long.

“Can we just, forget this happened?” asked Nico.

“Of course,” said Will.

And so, the night at the campfire ended. The campers meandered to their designated cabins. Will walked Nico to the Hades cabin, kissing him before he departed to his own and tenderly squeezed his arm in a _I’m here for you manner_. 

As Nico entered his solitary cabin, he so wished Will could have stayed with him. Getting under the vampiric sheets, Nico proceeded to have a sleepless night and spent it instead to forget about the reality of what that ache most likely foretold.

\--------------------------------------------------

With each passing day, the event of that night ever so slowly slipped out of Nico’s thoughts and by the following week, it didn’t even cross his mind. 

Life was back to the typical happenings of the camp, which was exactly what Nico wanted. Sword lessons, dinner with the Apollo kids, monster battles in the forest, canoe rides with Will; all was nicely distracting and routinely.

But of course that didn’t last nearly as long as it should have (which honestly is expected for a camp full of demigods) when the satyr, Grover Underwood, reared his ugly face. Okay, Nico didn’t have anything against the guy, nor did he find his face ugly, but the miserable energy that cloaked over him as he entered the camp made Nico look preppy and upbeat. The bags under his eyes and the hunched posture of his back was apparent that he had a long journey with poor news to tell.

Campers closest to him excitedly said their hellos and welcomed him back as he sulked in, gripping the straps of his backpack and unenthusiastically said his replies. Nico stayed back and continued to hold the bundle of rope that Connor Stoll draped over Nico’s open arms and rambled on about his latest pranks as the two cleaned up.

He watched as the satyr made his way towards the Big House where he was happily greeted by Chiron, the camp’s activities director, but upon observing Grover’s ambiance, his smile quickly dropped and the two hurriedly went inside.

Nico decided that, at that moment, whatever was the problem wasn’t _his_ problem. The affairs of a duck, a deer, a Demeter kid, and sixty pounds of detergent sounded much more interesting.

\--------------------------------------------------------

“Chiron wants to talk to you!”

Harvey obviously had no idea what it was that Chiron wanted to discuss with Nico, but the young son of Hephaestus certainly acted like Nico was some miss-behaved student about to get in trouble with the principal for ditching class for the millionth time and found the whole situation very amusing.

It was close to sunset. The sun just at that perfect angle to make everyone’s eyes burn. Nico wanted to stay out there enjoying getting his retina’s singed and not deal with what he knew had to do with whatever Grover was upset about when he came to camp just a few hours ago.

Nico sighed and proceeded with the request.

It had been some time since Nico last went into the Big House and he almost forgot just how captivatingly chaotic it was. Not only was there still all the décor that was left when Dionysus had been discharged as director from Camp Half-Blood, but his godly blessings had not stopped their infiltration of the front room of the Big House. The ivy and grape vines wrapped and blanketed over every inch of the walls – although carefully leaving Seymour, the living stuffed leopard head, enough room to not feel claustrophobic – and snaked around the furniture as if it was attempting to intrude all the other rooms. Seeing it all made Nico feel a pang of nostalgia for the wine god; he knew most of the campers weren’t too fond of Dionysus, but for whatever reason, Nico kind of liked him and his outlandish ways.

“In here, Nico.”

Following the voice of Chiron, Nico found himself in a small room he’d never been in before which was tucked away at the House’s back-left corner. Compared to the front with all the vines and theatrical masks and smell of sausages, this room was modest and comforting. The variety of plush furniture, dim lights, mismatched rugs, and wooden bookshelves exclusively filled with play scripts made him feel like he was entering some hipster café in the pacific northwest. Behind a small wooden table sat Chiron in his wheelchair and faux human-legs where he waved for Nico to join him.

Nico took a seat in the large plum chair with a carefully stitched pillow featuring sleeping spotted cats, no doubt Mr. D’s design choice. As he sat down, he was surprised to find Will instead of Grover sitting in the chair next to him looking quite worried and clutching a matching cat pillow.

“First of all, neither of you are in any sort of trouble,” reassured Chiron. Will breathed a sigh of relief and stopped strangling the pillow. 

Chiron continued, “However I’m going to be completely frank with you, I don’t have happy news.”

Nico realized that although Will was also here, Chiron was obviously talking specifically to Nico. Chiron most likely brought Will in to act as a comfort.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and knew there was no point in delaying the inevitable. 

“What’s happened?”

“I’d thought perhaps you’d have known about it,” said Chiron. “Have you gotten any… _feelings_?”

Surprisingly, Will seemed to realize just what Chiron was talking about before Nico.

“_Last week_!” said Will. 

Oh yeah, thought Nico, _that_.

Nico had successfully forgotten about the overdramatic twinge he felt during that night’s campfire and being reminded about it made his chest feel a reminiscing ache. Then as his brain clicked the pieces together, the reality of the situation hit him more painfully than any battle wound possibly could. The intensity of the twinge, Grover’s mood, Chiron calling him in, Will sitting next to him. _I’d thought perhaps you’d have known about it_.

Nausea overwhelmed him. His legs lost all feeling. His brain went fuzzy. His heart dropped and the ache swelled and swelled and he was sure he was going to explode or vomit or black-out or perform a violent choreography of all three.

_I should have checked I should have checked I should have checked I should have…_

He stayed seated. 

It hadn’t registered with Will yet, but Chiron knew Nico knew. He could never be fooled by such phony stoutness. Graciously, Chiron let Nico take his time.

Nico couldn’t make eye contact with the centaur; his eyes instead hazily stared at a copy of _Angels In America_ perched to the left of Chiron.

He swallowed again, blinked, held his breath, and asked.

“Who was it?”

“Jason Grace.”

It felt the same when he was ten. Back when he was full of relenting joy and childhood wonder. Back when gods were myths and heroes weren’t flawed. Back when the prospect of death was incomprehensible. Impossible. When it could never happen to _your_ friends or _your_ family. _I’m safe from death, the ones I love cannot be touched_. But they can and by gods they do.

He felt the cold, the sickness, the numbness, the fear, the drop. He felt every emotion that could and could never be raging through his mind and his blood and his guts as they churned and boiled. He tasted the bile that was lodged in his throat and felt the blood and fluids that filled his skull seethe and scream and his tears and eyes and lungs begged and hollered and wailed to be freed and wrenched and mutilated from their ache.

It was impossible for his sister to be dead. It was impossible for Jason to be dead too.

For a child of the Underworld, Nico knows death and feels death and breaths death. He understands it like a cat knows it’s special or a bag of rocks knows gravity. It’s not a surprise. Even the question of What’s After Life is not a wonder. He _knows_.

But even for all he knows and all he can rationalize, he’s still a person – still just a child – and the death of someone you love so immensely really really _fucking hurts_.

Nico could tell Chiron was talking, explaining what had happened. He could feel Will press a hand against his arm with sympathy. There was noise and movement and touch but it was all diluted and slow. No words were connected, no touch was felt. He could tell they were being gentle. They knew how he erupts from his emotions and how he reacted last time someone so close had died.

“. . . saved. . . Piper. . . a ship. . . a hero. . .”

Chiron’s words frothed and churned as an incoherent mess.

_A hero_.

Those three syllables were the only thing that stuck in Nico’s head. It rattled and clanged and reverberated in his throbbing mind.

_A hero. A hero. A hero._

Bianca was a hero. She was a hero before he understood what a “true” hero was. She was brave and strong and protected Nico through his young life. Yet she died. She wouldn’t have if she wasn’t A Hero.

Jason too was a hero. He became who Bianca was when she was alive. Without even realizing it, Jason was suddenly his older brother. Nico felt safe around Jason. He felt as if Jason could do no wrong and no wrong could happen as long as he was around. Also without meaning too, Jason was the first living soul who knew Nico’s Secret. 

He _hated_ that Jason knew. It angered him, it scared him. He just knew that Jason would hate him and tell the others and they would hate him too.

But they didn’t. He didn’t. 

Nico gave Jason spite and resentment for knowing, yet he kept Nico’s Secret and protected Nico like a younger brother. It took a while, but Nico finally began to see how much Jason _did_ care about him and _didn’t_ see him as a freak.

_I’ve seen a lot of brave things. But what you just did? That was maybe the bravest._

Those words never left Nico. From that horrible day, that was the only good that came out of it. He may not have believed Jason at the time, but he so desperately wanted to. Eventually he did. Jason’s words kept him anchored. They became a comfort. During his loneliest nights on the _Argo II_ when he felt so disgusted and embarrassed with himself, those words swelled and became poetry in his head. Maybe I’m not bad, Nico would think. Those nights he would so badly want to talk to Jason about it, just as Jason always asked. Now more than ever he wanted to go back to that time and do just that.

Guilt entangled in Nico’s stomach and advanced his nausea. 

“. . . so sorry. . . know it hurts. . .”

_Know it hurts_.

Just after the reality of Bianca’s death had registered in his brain, Nico felt the aversive pull from absolute sadness into pure anger. He felt it consume his mind and drown his cells. Red colored his vision and his ears rang. Back then it was Percy he was angry at and now he so desperately wanted to shed this anger onto Chiron. But he was older now and knew Chiron didn’t have anything to do with Jason’s death. Yet it didn’t make him any less furious.

Without warning, Nico shot up from his seat and vanished into the shadows.

\-------------------------------------------------

As it had for many years, the Zeus cabin lay silent and free from campers. It lay barren yet it exuded the power and grandness of Zeus himself. Only up until recently had it remained in this state, and once Jason Grace had arrived at Camp Half-Blood and felt his heart take ground there, it seemed like – at least during the summer – this emptiness would no longer decorate it’s interior. 

But alas, it seems to be one cabin that can never quite keep its hosts.

\-------------------------------------------------

Shadow travelling was quite a nifty trick.

Nico hadn’t used it in quite some time due to how draining it was, but when he did use it, most of the time it was for travelling farther than just a quarter mile within the same location. He also surprisingly didn’t use it to get out of a situation where people are trying to comfort him or ask him where he was going or what he was planning. In the moment, he didn’t have a plan and certainly didn’t need anyone trying to coax him out of it.

\-------------------------------------------------

Given that the Hades cabin was almost exclusively homed to Nico, he would always leave his Stygian sword hanging directly to the left of the front door just incase he needed it at a moments notice. And when pure unrelenting anger is pulsing through the veins of said owner, this was the perfect time for it to be within easy reach. 

A pale, black-clad body accumulated out of the shadows from the front corner of the cabin, ripped the sword from the wall, and stormed out into the fading light.

Out on the green, the few campers who were hanging out there quickly turned to see who had slammed a door with such aggression that everyone was expecting the whole cabin to crumble away.

Nico knew that people were intimidated by him. He also knew that for a long time, most people were afraid of him. Slowly people’s fear began to dissolve away and they began to react to him more like a regular demigod. However as Nico trudged out of his cabin dizzy from high emotions and shadow-travel, those campers gaped at him with terror. They back away or fled the closer he got to the groups of people.

The light from Hestia’s flames glowed red, painting Nico’s shadowed face with it. He dragged his sword across the earth as if it was the chopped leg of his victim that he wasn’t done with yet. His whole body physically shook with rage. Nobody wanted to be anywhere near an emotional Nico with a sword.

In that moment, Nico didn’t care what anyone thought of him. He wasn’t out to get them, unless of course they were going to try to stop him, but he knew damn well no one was about to try. 

His eyes were only locked on the cabin in front of him.

The closer he got the more fury and rage boiled out of him. The quicker his feet were working, his body ignoring his wooziness. His heart pumped to what felt like the verge of failing point. Sweat dripped down his back. Fingers clenched around his sword. His pupils contracted. His head pounded.

Bellowing at the top of his lungs, he struck the Zeus cabin. 

Even with the strength of the cabin’s exterior, a chunk of one of the pillars was immediately fractured off with the power from Nico’s assault. 

Swing after swing, Nico attacked the cabin, shouting and screaming his fury at it. Pillars and walls were gashed under his sword; its bangs echoed with Nico’s cries.

He couldn’t think. He could hardly see or hear or feel. All he could sense was the fervor penetrating out of his body. The grass crunched under his heavy feet as death poured out of him. Unnatural shadows licked across the cabin’s surface and the grass died by the yards like a hyperactive plague. The earth opened up around him as skeletons drained out to join him. Some drew swords and bows, others used their own fragile fists, and one grabbed an ember from Hestia’s Hearth and chucked it at the cabin. Immediately, fire burst around it’s walls, the flames consuming all of the dead grass with equal haste. 

Luckily for the skeletons, they didn’t have to worry about the burn of the fire, but for Nico he could feel the scorch of his skin from the air alone. He didn’t care.  
Through the chaos of the skeletons and the fire and his own sword and shouts and ringing in his ears, he could make out various screams in the distance. Blends of “Stop!” and “Nico!” and “Help!” and “What are you doing?!” trickled through. But he pushed it aside.

Nico didn’t know what his end goal was. He just knew something had to be punished right now and he was going to be the one to do it.

The smoke burned and stung his eyes and lungs. His throat was scalded, his voice getting dimmer and gruffer with each wail. 

He broke through.

A hole large enough for Nico to squeeze through split the wall. Before the fire could make its way there, he pushed his way through it and into the cabin.  
Inside was desolate. Smoke from the outside swirled up and around the massive Zeus statue fixed at its center. Seeing it amplified his anger like a second wind and Nico rushed towards it, striking his new target.

Outside, one of the distant voices grew louder and Nico could hear the owner running towards him. Ignoring it, he kept swinging and shouting with all his might.

“Nico!” it called from outside the opening, coughing from the smoke. “This isn’t going to help!”

_Will_. 

It had to be. No one else would be brave enough to go near him in a state like this, fire or not.

“Jason wouldn’t want this!” cried Will.

Nico knew Will was right. He knew what he was doing was completely useless and he was just causing more harm. But whether it be pettiness or stupidity, Nico couldn’t stop.

“_Please_, Nico!”

Outside the cabin were muffled shouts and clamors of campers battling skeletons and attempting to put out the flames. Someone called to Will. Nico couldn’t tell what his response was, but when he finished, Will pushed himself through the unstable opening as the fire licked his body.

Will grunted in pain but kept his mind focused on Nico.

Arms and head and chest burning, Nico still didn’t stop.

As gentle yet stern as possible, Will kept talking. 

“Please.”

Like trying to calm a wild beast, Will reached out and tenderly placed his hand on the back of Nico’s shoulder. 

_An accident_. 

Oh how Nico knew what he had done was an accident. A flinch. Just a reaction anyone’s body would do in a situation like his. But by the gods above and below, Nico regretted it.

Feeling that slight touch against his body while in such a state of senselessness made Nico strike said touch. Only after his blade had sliced Will’s arm had Nico realized.

It was like the world had snapped back into place.

Will gasped and recoiled his arm.

Nico dropped his sword and staggered to the boy he loved.

“Oh gods, Will, I-I...”

Somehow when he looked up, Will had neither anger nor fear on his face.

“Nico. Please stop this.”

He could see a slight pool of tears breach in Will’s eyes. The two stared in eternal silence as Nico’s mind calculated truly what he had been doing. The pleading look etched on Will’s face was something Nico vowed he would never see again.

As Nico’s head cleared, his body reverberated back to the wooziness his anger had previously discounted.

Will raised his hand palm up for Nico to take.

Hand trembling, he excepted. 

Almost immediately, Nico’s legs gave out. He collapsed as his weakness and emotions and nausea flooded his world. Just missing Will, Nico vomited on the floor. He hurled his guts out and finally the son of Hades broke. 

Within the confides of the smoky damaged cabin that once housed Jason Grace, Nico wept. He wept for Jason. He wept for his own actions. He wept for the guilt that swelled in his stomach. He wept for his fellow campers who he so badly frightened and for his fear that he caused permanent damage in their trust he so tediously built. He wept for Piper and Leo and Thalia who he knew must be suffering the most. He wept for Will. For his tears and his pain and the fact that even though Nico had hurt him and embarrassed him and made him bleed, Will just held him in his arms and let him cry.

Nico wanted to just stay there with him. The two of them in solitude as Will held him and whispered in his blackened hair that he was there as Nico sobbed his sorrows into Will’s chest. He didn’t want to be seen in such a fallen state by anyone else. Humiliation awaited him outside those walls.

As the flames ended and the campers called for them and peered through the cracks, the two boys stayed as if eternally rooted to its ground. Tears stained with the flecks of sweat and blood and vomit on Will’s orange shirt. The walls sang back to the universe Nico’s melancholy. They blurred out the world as Nico cried to the one who left it. The pain of Jason’s death suffocating his fragile heart. As he laid there, he _let_ it suffocate him. He allowed his ache to be exposed to Will. Let him feel his trembling body and hear his lament. He let Will see every ounce of his weakness. For the first time in his life, he was okay with that.

After lives and centuries had come and gone, Nico began to quiet and his tears began to subside. 

“You ready?” whispered Will.

With difficulty, Nico nodded.

Although Nico was ready, his body certainly wasn’t. He tried to stand with Will’s help but vertigo flashed through Nico’s head and he collapsed once again. Gingerly, Will scooped up Nico’s body and carried his broken boyfriend out of the cabin.

The world was irreducibly quiet outside. Campers stationed around the burnt grass, smoke still rising from the charred earth. The newly darkened sky cocooned the tense atmosphere of the camp. The only movement was Will walking through the crowd with calm deliberateness. The capricious boy, who moments earlier was raising the dead and prepared to fight the world, hung so small and delicate in Will’s arms.

“I’m heading to the infirmary,” said Will.

Nico couldn’t bear to watch their gaze. He felt like a little kid again. Embarrassment burned his ears. Refusing to look back at them, he gave his body permission to do what it had begged from him for far too long. His eyelids fell and he blacked out.

\----------------------------------------------

Delicate tinny clinks of a metal spoon in a mug chirped in Nico’s ears and began to bring him out of his dreamless sleep. His mind buzzed with collages of seemingly unrelated memories hazily strung together through the same nauseating ache. 

Keeping his eyes closed, he gradually stirred in his bed. It felt alien, the pillows too plush and the sheets too soft.

_The infirmary_.

The cloudy memories finally clicked into place.

Oh. Right.

Rubbing his face, Nico sat up against the numerous pillows and opened his eyes to the dimly lit infirmary room and a golden-haired boy dressed in scrubs.

“Good morning!” Will smiled. “You know, you’d think I’d get used to how heavy of a sleeper you are by now, but I guess I never will.”

He placed a mug with a spoon on the table next to Nico’s bed, it’s golden liquid splashing dangerously close to the edge.

Nico exhaled quickly in a way that some may consider a form of a laugh. 

“What time is it?”

“Well considering it’s about ten minutes till everyone has to clock out to their cabins for the night,” said Will, “it’s late.”

A whole day.

It wasn’t just Will who was always surprised by how much he could sleep; it always caught Nico himself off guard whenever he found out just how long he slept, especially when there’s no dreams to accompany it.

“I made you some chamomile with honey,” continued Will, nodding to the tea. “Ambrosia does wonders, but there’s nothing like tea. Plus this is the fifth cup I’ve made for you today and I’d prefer to not also have to drink this one too.”

Nico took the steaming cup and sipped. It felt good for a moment, but memories from the previous day dissipated the warmth.

“Oh gods,” he whispered to the tea.

Will sighed, his whole demeanor changed. 

“Yeah.”

“How’s your er…”

“Arm? It’s fine. Told you ambrosia does wonders.”

Yesterday’s guilt wrestled back in Nico’s stomach.

“Oh Will, I’m – Oh _gods_ I’m so sorry. I don’t even know why I did that, it just _happened_ and I was being so _stupid_ and wasn’t thinking and –”

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. I forgive you. Honestly I knew you didn’t mean to.”

He smiled again at Nico to reassure him, but Nico still felt queasy.

“Nico?” his voice softened. 

He knelt next to the bed and placed his hand softly on Nico’s wrist. 

“It’s you who I want to make sure is okay,” said Will. “Last night was… that was _really_ scary. And, I was by no means scared of _you_. I was scared of what could’ve happened to you.”

Will’s voice cracked. He had difficultly looking directly at Nico and instead just looked at his hand resting on Nico’s wrist, rubbing his thumb slightly against the pale flesh.

“I just… I really, really care about you, Nico, and I just. I just can’t lose you.”

They’ve been intimate before. Many times in fact. But something about the way Will’s voiced strained for the simple words and the weight of their gentle touch made the moment feel so heavy and personal.

Nico too just stared at their hands.

It all felt so reminiscent of when their feelings for each other began to blossom into the open, what seemed oh so long ago when Nico was prescribed by Will to three days in the infirmary to rest. During those days, their quiet love grew. Touches lingered slightly too long. Private gazes to the other caught and blushes spread. They would talk for hours about everything and nothing, just wanting to hear the others voice. People wouldn’t ask Will why he spent so much time with Nico because they already knew the answer. One night, he never returned to the Apollo cabin, instead their counselor fell asleep at the chair permanently set by Nico’s bed, their fingers entwined for the first time. On the fourth day just before departing, the boys confided their cordial confessions.

Silence passed through.

“You know,” Will continued, “I’ve never lost anyone real close before. Obviously I’ve had too many friends die and of course every one of their deaths hurt. I guess the most personal was Matthew’s death, but he was, a _difficult_ person and the two of us just didn’t get along all too well.

“What I mean is, I don’t know what it feels like to lose someone who I love so much. And. And after hearing about Jason’s death – _Jason_, who’s this crazy powerful guy – and you just left and I didn’t know where you went and... I don’t know... I guess it just hit me that, well, that you could die too.”

A breath. Nico stayed quiet.

“I can’t even imagine how you do it. You’ve lost Bianca, your mom, and now Jason. Heck, you’ve even lost the life you previously had. It’s all so _crazy_ how you can handle all that. And how you reacted to the bad news yesterday–”

“Was _insane_ and _stupid!_”

“Look, maybe it wasn’t the best, but honestly I can understand why you would react like that. And everyone else–”

“They definitely hate me.”

“_No!_ No, Nico,” said Will. “Yeah, it did freak people out. But Chiron talked to everyone and he let them know about Jason and the whole situation. I know that once you talk to them and apologize, they’re gonna be fine,” he squeezed Nico’s wrist. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

Nico finally looked up to meet Will’s eyes. They were so caring and genuine, everything that he said, he meant every word. His emotions for how much he cared for the boy at his side swelled in Nico’s heart.

“I love you so much, Will.”

“I love you too.”

Right on cue, Nico cried.

“Hey,” Will stood, took the forgotten mug from Nico, and slowly shimmied his way in the bed. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

Like last night, Will held Nico as he sobbed. But now the world was soft and calm. People didn’t peek through any cracks and there was no blood or vomit or smoke. Their bodies entangled in the cool sheets and they shared each other’s warmth.

“I just can’t believe he’s dead,” managed Nico.

“I know, I’m so so sorry,” Will pulled Nico closer to his chest and kissed his head. “Out of every demigod I’ve ever met, Jason was the last one I would expect for something so horrible to happen to. Man, I wish I could’ve gotten to know him better.”

“He was…” through his tears, Nico smiled. “He was so kind and so brave. He was like a brother to me. I don’t think I realized how much he meant to me until… Until yesterday.”

Will hummed.

“You know,” said Nico. “Jason was the first person to know about me being gay.”

“How did you never get around to telling me that!”

Nico laughed against Will’s chest, as real and beautiful as the heartbeat he would listen forever to. 

“You never asked!”

That was one story he hadn’t told anyone about, the moment known exclusively between him and Jason. But Nico was ready. He wanted to share everything to Apollo’s son.

And so, that was just what he did.

He told Will about Favonius and Cupid. He told him about how kind Jason had been, and never stopped being. He told Will about every detail he could remember about Jason. The memories of Jupiter’s son painted the world around them. Now and then the additional laugh or cry or joke, but all love. As the hours passed and stories like legends were remembered, Nico felt peace settle in him. He knew Will was right, it was going to be okay. 

He knew death. He knew that Jason wasn’t gone. He wasn’t up here anymore and, yes, that would always hurt. Just like Bianca’s death still hurt and just like how Will’s death will hurt once that came (though Nico hoped he would already be permanently fixed in the Underworld ready to greet him before that happened). But moments like these, death could never take. Moments of warmth and pillows. Of stories and souls. Of memories of the past flourishing infinitely with the universe. Of the sacred ceaseless love between two people.

It was going to be okay.


End file.
